Shadowed and Invisible
by Pure-Pen
Summary: --One shot--I’m invisible to the most important person in my life because that’s the way is has to be.


**Title:** Shadowed and Invisible

**Author:** Pure-Pen a.k.a. Katie

**Disclaimer:** Still not owning a thing. Well except the narrator of this story. You'll understand in a couple seconds.

**Summary:**--One shot--I'm invisible to the most important person in my life because that's the way is has to be.

* * *

I could feel the ice rippling beneath my feet and the cold winter air nipped at my nose as I skated a couple laps around the pond. I could close my eyes and almost make out the memories of my past life. The one I had thrown away with a bottle of whiskey in one hand and the life of my wife, God, my beautiful Casey in the other.

I was young and stupid but that's really no excuse for what I did. We were both young and stupid. We were high school sweethearts, she was a year younger than I; we shared holidays, school dances, the prom, together; Casey and I, me and Casey.

The prom was the night that ruined Casey's life. Pretty much bound her to me whether she liked it or not. And to be perfectly honest, it was my fault. I was the one who wanted to. It was my senior prom and I wanted to live it out in the most cliché fashion, the one that has been acted out in every corny teen-flick movie since the beginning of time!

I could say that if I could possibly go back and relive those moments in my life, change her life and mine for the better; but I can't. I would rob her of the boy that she loves more than her own life.

My son; baby Charles. She probably regrets giving him my name. Regrets staring into the face, that already resembles me so much, and having to say my name, everyday for the rest of her life. Especially after that one Christmas Eve, Charlie-boy was only two; Casey and I were married a little longer than a year when things got rough in more ways than one.

Times were tough, I was working doubles shifts, barely making ends meet however my little habit of drinking was taking away some of that much needed cash. I was so frustrated with myself and my marriage that was being torn apart at the seams. We were too young to be married, for God sakes we were too young to be even thinking 'what if we were married'.

I was drunk; incredibly drunk. Little Charlie was sound asleep in the living room that doubled at his room in our small excuse for an apartment, oblivious to it all. It's really a blur of sounds and colors. I had just finished yelling at her, over something stupid, under-cooked meat most likely. She was an easy target; easy to pick at, barely ever said anything back to me. And when she did that night, something snapped. Something changed.

I promised her years before; I would never ever strike her. I was brought up in a good home and I learned at an early age that 'boys just don't hit girls because they just don't'.

The image of her lying on the ground with her hands, her tiny beautiful hands cradling her head, protecting herself the best she could from me will be burned into my memory forever and haunt my dreams until I am six feet under the frozen grounds of Minnesota.

I left the house for one reason or another that night.

When I came back they were gone.

After the New Year I was served with divorce papers and I signed them, knowing my Casey deserved better than the likes of me.

Charlie would've been about seven when I finally worked up the nerve to find Casey. It took a while, seeing she had taken back her maiden name of Conway. I found she had just started working at a little hole in the wall diner called Mickey's in Minneapolis. I asked her about Charlie, what he was like, if I could see him. She said she would rather I not come into his life only because it would confuse him.

So I kept my distance, watching my son grow from a safe distance at Casey's approval. I was in the crowd, watching him play games, hidingamongst the shadows, and helplessly watched every time he lost. I wanted to show him. I wanted to teach him.

I watched as another man came into his life and teach him the things that were supposed to be mine.

I taped every game he played at the Goodwill Games. He looked so much like me when I was his age. It was like watching my childhood from a distance in slow motion. It was so painful. I threw myself back into alcohol. I was going down in a tailspin.

Casey told me to disappear. I was cutting things too close. I was messing up.

So I left the state and it took a while until I straightened things out but I did. I got a job; a good one that actually paid enough to pay my bills with enough to spare. I pulled myself together. I was okay.

I later learned that Charlie, my son, graduated fromsome private school, captain of the Varsity hockey team, smart as hell and was going to a good university, University of Minnesota. He was going to be something much more than me; so much more than I could've _dreamed_.

I couldn't meet him now. I couldn't just show up and risk the possibility of ruining his life and set him up for a huge downfall. I stayed away. I moved back to Minnesota and didn't tell Casey. I made sure she wouldn't find me. I made sure _he_ couldn't find me.

One day, not too long ago I was looking through the paper and read that Charlie was going to get married to a local girl.

I find myself skating around the pond my son had learned to skate on. The idea of being here just gives me the feeling of closeness to him. I leave the fresh ice and sit down on a bench not too far away and untie my skates and pull on my winter boots. Christmas is coming. The Anniversery of Casey leaving me is coming up.

I look up and see a boy—rather a man—with a face that is too familiar to me, holding the hand of a short, brunette girl. He looks past me and continues walking, not ignoring me, but not seeing me.

I stay invisible to my son. The way is should be.

The way it _has_ to be.


End file.
